Trading Spaces
by Ann29
Summary: Two weeks after their wedding, Baloo and Rebecca are back to fighting, as usual. Can trading jobs for a day give them each a new respect for the other?


**Trading Spaces**

_TaleSpin _and its characters are the property of Disney. All other characters are mine and cannot be used without permission. 

No, this isn't what you are probably thinking. There is no redecorating or remodeling in this story. However, there are a few laughs - I hope. Have you ever wondered what would happen if Baloo and Rebecca exchanged jobs for a day? This fan-fic explores that interesting little scenario. Enjoy!

_**Cape Suzette**  
__**June 1938**  
_**_Early Afternoon_**

The sun was shining brightly overhead, showering its warmth onto the tropical city of Cape Suzette. A golden Conwing L-16 flew through the massive cliffs that surrounded the western edge of the city and splashed down for a perfect landing in front of a small brown building. The cargo plane's fuselage barely brushed against the dock jutting out into the clear azure waters of the harbor before its twin Superflight 100 engines stopped. Baloo von Bruinwald and his son Kit, a large grey bear and a small brown cub respectively, stepped from the cockpit and walked up the dock towards Higher for Hire.

Thirteen-year-old Kit never got tired of this: coming home after a cargo run. The word 'home' had taken on a more special meaning a fortnight ago upon the eagerly welcomed nuptials of his 'sort of' father Baloo and his boss Rebecca Cunningham. The unpainted wooden building on the harbor's edge, the headquarters for his parents' cargo service, had then truly become Kit's home. A home with a dad, a mom, and a little sister. They became a family, just as Kit dreamed they would be ever since that first night when Rebecca and her daughter Molly stayed at Higher for Hire. Smiling to himself, the former orphan slipped his paw into his father's larger one.

Baloo gently squeezed Kit's hand, joking, "Sure do like those flowers yer sportin', Li'l Britches. Orange is definitely yer color. Brings out the twinkle in yer eyes." He winked at his son. "An' I know ya liked it when that girl kissed ya. She was pretty cute. Alo-ho-ho-ha!"

Higher for Hire's flight crew had recently been to Hawaee. At the airport, they had been greeted by two young, attractive females who placed leis around their necks and kissed them on the cheek. It was the typical Hawaeean greeting given to all visitors.

"So was yours." Kit had enjoyed the Hawaeean way of saying hello, being at the age where he was beginning to notice girls. Playfully punching the big bear's ample stomach, the cub teased back, "You better not tell Rebecca about those girls. She might get jealous."

The big bear guffawed and tousled Kit's hair through his blue and red baseball cap. "It might be fun ta see your mama jealous."

Kit glanced at his wristwatch as they passed through the door into the office/living room. He groaned inwardly. As usual, they were late. He knew that they shouldn't have stopped at Louie's on the way home. But Baloo had insisted on it, not having been there for a couple of weeks. Once Baloo stepped foot inside of Louie's it was difficult - to say the least - to get him to leave, especially when the simian orchestra was practicing their mambo tunes.

"Don't worry, kid. I know how ta get around Becky."

"You hope," Kit murmured. However, the young navigator knew they were in trouble when Rebecca, a petite brown bearess, stood up behind her desk, a scowl etched across her face.

"Hey, honey!" the big bear called jovially.

"Where have you been?" she demanded loudly.

"Brought ya a souvenir." Baloo draped a pink and white flowered lei around her neck before kissing her. Noticing her frown, he asked, "What's wrong, Becky?"

She tore the lei from her neck and scornfully tossed it on her desk. "You're late, Baloo! That's what's wrong! Where were you two?"

"Hawaee, deliverin' yer little cocktail umbrellas," Baloo answered with a jaunty smile. He winked at Kit.

Rebecca arched an eyebrow, hands on her hips. "Exactly what did _that wink_ mean?"

Baloo looked at Kit. Kit looked at Baloo and shrugged. The goofy grin faded from Baloo's face.

"Nuthin', Becky. Got somethin' in my eye."

"I'm sure," she scoffed. Rebecca glared at both of them, but mainly at Baloo. "It doesn't take that long to get to Hawaee and back. The truth, Baloo. You promised me on our wedding day that you'd tell me the truth and nothing but the truth."

"Didn't know we was in court," the big bear grumbled under his breath.

"_Well_?" That one word spoke volumes. She tapped her foot impatiently and a little wearily. Rebecca hated the fact that Baloo constantly put her in this position; she hated nagging him for not sticking to the schedule. She had hoped that his habits along that line would improve after they were married. Apparently, she was mistaken, because here she was, hashing out the same old argument. Some days, the bearess wanted to crawl back to bed and start over. This was one of those days.

"We went to Louie's," Kit finally confessed.

"Go to your room, young man!" Rebecca pointed towards the stairs.

"Huh?" the boy squeaked. "But..."

"No backtalk! Go!" the bearess ordered.

Kit went without another word.

"Don't scream at him, Becky."

"I'm not screaming!" she yelled. Her voice crescendoed in pitch and volume. "_This_ is screaming! Do you realize that you have another delivery to make today, buster? Now, it'll be late, because you were late getting back from this one!"

Nose to nose with his wife, his fists clenched, Baloo retorted angrily, "Hey, lady, flyin' is hard work. It's no crime to unwind at Louie's every once in a while!"

"Maybe I should make it a criminal offence! Then I could have you arrested and thrown in jail!"

"Oh, yeah? I bet you'd like to throw away the key while you were at it, Re-bec-ca!" Baloo spat out every syllable of her name as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

"That might not be a bad idea!"

Upstairs, Kit could hear their argument even with the door shut. _Guess the honeymoon's over_, he thought glumly. He perched on the edge of his bed and stared without seeing at a throw rug. _Married two weeks and already they're back to fighting like cats and dogs._ _It was sure nice while it lasted. Too bad it couldn't have lasted longer, like fifty years._

Seven-year-old Molly crept into the boy's room, doll Lucy in hand, and joined Kit on the bed. "Are Mommy and Daddy gonna get a divorce?" she whispered.

Kit draped his lei around her neck before putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Nah. They would never do that. They love each other too much."

Fingering the velvety blossoms, the girl asked, "How come they fight, Kit?"

"Because they care about each other."

Wrinkling up her forehead, Molly shot her brother an incredulous look. "Weird way to show it."

Kit shrugged. "I know, but it's true."

Downstairs, Baloo bellowed, "The problem with you, Becky, is that you don't know the first thing about what I do!"

"And you don't know anything about what _I_ do!"

"I don't _care_ what ya do! I'm leavin'!"

"Fine!" Rebecca yelled.

Baloo slammed the door, then stuck his head back in, shouting, "_Fine!_" to get the last word. He slammed the door again, causing the cubs to wince. They heard the _Sea Duck_ roar off.

In response to Molly's tear-filled eyes, Kit said, "Don't worry, little sis. He'll be back."

After a short while, Kit tiptoed to the banister and peered down at the office/living room below. Rebecca had her head down on the desk. Motioning to his sister that it was all clear, the cubs descended the stairs. They stood beside their mother's desk.

"Mind if I take Molly to get some Frosty Pep, Rebecca?" Kit asked politely. _Anything to get Molly's mind off the fighting._

"What, Kit?" the bearess asked, raising her head and brushing tears from her eyes.

"Can I take Molly to get some Frosty Pep?" he reiterated.

"Sure. Sure. Where's my purse?" She rummaged around in the bottom left desk drawer.

"It's okay, Miz..um, Rebecca. I've got some money."

Taking out her wallet, Rebecca placed two dollars in his paw. "There you go, and you can keep the change." She sniffled and gave a watery smile to her children. "Kit..."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, sweetie. Remember, you're only allowed to go to the ice cream stand. Come right back and don't talk to strangers."

"Come on, Kit; we can take the Danger Mobile!" Molly pulled on her brother's paw.

"We won't, Rebecca. We'll be careful." Kit flashed Rebecca a small smile before heading outside. He kind of liked being mothered by her; it was a novel experience.

Molly climbed in her red wagon - the Danger Mobile - that was parked beside Higher for Hire. The boy towed his sister three blocks to a small ice cream stand, purchasing a Frosty Pep cone for Molly and a grape slushy for himself. On the way back home, the little girl suggested, "I wanna trade places, Kit. I'll pull you now."

"Okay, if you want to," Kit agreed dubiously. He sat cross-legged in the wagon and held both the ice cream cone and his slushy cup.

Molly tugged and strained against the handle with all her might, but the wagon wouldn't budge. Panting, she admitted, "You're too heavy. Guess we'll have to trade back."

"That's it!" Kit shouted as Molly once again climbed into the wagon.

"What's it?" Molly licked her melting ice cream.

"What if Baloo and Rebecca switched places for a day, and they each experienced what the other one goes through? Maybe then Miz...er, Rebecca wouldn't get so angry when Baloo was late, and Papa Bear wouldn't take everything Rebecca does in the office for granted."

"Kit, do you have any money left?"

"Yeah, why?" He touched the dollar and change jingling in his pocket.

"Can I get more Frosty Pep? Please? I'll be real good," Molly wheedled.

The boy laughed. "Sorry, sis. Rebecca's rules - only one Frosty Pep per day."

"Aww..." Molly groaned, scrunching up her nose in disappointment.

"I'll play hide-and-seek with you when we get home."

"Okay! You think up the bestest ideas, Kit."

That statement caused a broad grin to spread across the boy's face as he pulled the rumbling wagon over the bumpy sidewalk.

**_Twilight_**

It was growing dark. There was still no sign of the _Sea Duck_ or Baloo. Kit, assembling a model airplane on a crate in the corner of the office/living room, watched his adopted mother's frantic fluttering. From her actions, it was obvious that she was worried about her husband. She walked from her desk over to the window. She stuck her head out the door. Frowning and muttering to herself, she crossed the room to her desk and picked up the telephone. After a second, she put the receiver down and headed back to the door to look outside again. Rebecca then went to the radio, pushed the transmit button on the microphone, opened her mouth, shook her head, closed her mouth, and put the mike down. For a second time, she trotted over to the window. When the _Sea Duck_'s engines were audible, the petite brown bearess rushed to her desk. In her haste, she knocked a pile of bills on the floor.

She was gathering them up when the pilot came through the door. He whipped off his red cap and crushed it in his paws. Apologies never had been easy for him. With a heavy sigh, Baloo crossed the room and knelt beside Rebecca to help her pick up the papers. He handed them to her, saying softly, repentantly, "Becky...honey, I'm sorry."

Papers and envelopes scattered on the floor as Rebecca flung her arms about his neck. "I'm sorry too, Baloo."

Smiling, Kit bent over his airplane model.

**_Later That Evening_**

The von Bruinwalds were relaxing post-dinner in the living room. Rebecca was at her desk, buried in ledgers and clicking away at an adding machine. Baloo, in his ratty red easy chair, watched the cubs chase each other around the room in a make-believe game of DangerWoman versus the air pirates.

"Ya know, Beckers," the big bear said through a yawn, "ya wouldn't be so uptight all the time if ya laid offa the work now and again."

"Don't push me, buster! I'm still upset that we lost the Gelman Glove account because of your tardiness!" Rebecca's eyes flashed dangerously. "Know-it-all, lazy bear," she muttered under her breath, jabbing at the adding machine keys more forcefully.

"Kit had a good idea when we were getting ice cream," Molly interjected, brandishing her DangerWoman spatula.

"Not now, Molly!" Kit said, fearful his idea would cause a second Great War between his parents. Even after they had 'kissed and made up', the tension was still high between them.

Regardless of her brother's protests, the little girl forged ahead. "Trade jobs for a day. Daddy can stay here, and, Mommy, you can fly the deliveries." She looked at her parents expectantly.

"Becky fly my baby!" Baloo sat upright in his chair.

"Baloo mess with my business!" Rebecca spread her arms protectively over her ledgers.

"I don't think so!" both adults exclaimed simultaneously.

_At least you agree on something_, thought Kit with a wry smile.

"Although..." Rebecca shot her husband a saucy glance. It would be amusing to see him make a fool out of himself. He knew absolutely nothing about business. The fact that he ran Baloo's Air Service into the ground was proof. _He wouldn't know a ledger from a ledge._

Baloo hurried over to stand in front of her desk. "Yer not seriously thinkin' about it, Becky!"

"Why not? It might be fun," she replied, sorting bills and invoices into separate piles.

"Fun for you, ya mean! I'd hafta stay in this stuffy little office all day while yer flyin' my beautiful _Sea Duck_."

"It's my plane, too, Baloo." She flaunted her wedding ring before his face. "We're married now, remember? We share everything fifty-fifty."

"Yeah, but..."

"_Technically_, _I'm_ sharing my half of the _Sea Duck_ with _you_, since_ I_ owned it before we were married." With dizzying speed, Rebecca stapled packets of papers together and placed them into folders for filing.

Baloo nervously rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't like the direction this conversation was taking.

"And I'm a pretty good pilot." She stopped her work to give him a pointed look. "You said so yourself."

"But...but..." Baloo could have kicked himself. He had told her that after her last flying lesson. _Me an' my big mouth! _

"We'll take Wildcat with us so if anything goes wrong - which it won't - we'll be safe."

"_We_?" Baloo cried.

"Kit and I. A pilot needs a navigator, right?"

Baloo knew he was beaten. When his wife got that determined glint in her eyes, there was no other option but to play along. "I s'pose...all right, Becky. Just fer one day." He turned to Kit, a dour, disapproving expression on his face. "Next time, keep yer big ideas to yourself, kid."

**_Early the Next Morning_**

The sun was just beginning to peek over the hills on the eastern edge of Cape Suzette when Baloo and Kit stood in the doorway of Higher for Hire. They watched as Rebecca - wearing Baloo's red cap - directed the loading of the _Sea Duck's _cargo hold. That morning's shipment was twenty crates of Handy Dandy diamond-tipped drill bits. Two men with dollies rolled the crates from the truck to the seaplane.

Scratching his head, which felt naked without his hat, the big bear grumbled, "How come they load 'em for her, but I gotta break my back liftin' all them darn things! It ain't fair, Li'l Britches." Baloo placed a paw on his son's shoulder. "If anythin' goes wrong, call me, okay?"

Kit grinned up at Baloo. "Don't worry, Papa Bear. We're just going to New Fedora. We'll be back in a couple of hours."

At the other end of the dock, Rebecca pulled Molly aside. "If your daddy does something bad, like yell at a customer, make sure you radio me right away."

"Check, Mommy," said Molly with a thumbs-up.

"Shake a leg, Becky, or yer gonna be late!" Baloo shouted. He chuckled to himself, _Hee, hee. I get ta yell at her for a change. Hot diggity dog! It's great to be the boss!_ He scooped up Molly. Father and daughter waved in response to Kit waving at them from the seaplane.

Baloo had a queer, sinking feeling in his stomach, seeing his 'baby' taxi into the harbor and take off without him. _Becky can fly. Becky can fly. After all, she's been taught by the world's greatest pilot, an' she's got Wildcat an' Kit ta help her. _His heart caught in his throat when the _Sea Duck's _wing grazed a passing zeppelin and wobbled for a breath-taking second before disappearing through the cliffs.

"Mommy said to give this to you." Molly held up a clipboard with paperwork pertaining to the Handy Dandy shipment. She wriggled out of his arms and returned to playing with her dolls.

Whistling, the pilot went inside, tossing the clipboard on top of the filing cabinet on the way to the kitchen and a morning snack.

The telephone rang. And rang. And rang some more.

"Daddy! Phone!" Molly said, bouncing into the kitchen.

Rummaging through the refrigerator, Baloo said, "You get it, Button-nose."

"That's not how Mommy does it," Molly said in a sing-song voice.

"How 'bout you an' me pretend that you're my secretary, just for today."

"Really?" Molly squealed in delight, hopping on the desk. She answered the telephone. "Hello?...Yuh-huh, this is Higher for Hire...Sorry, Daddy can't come to the phone right now. He's eating." At the irate dial tone, she shouted, "They hung up, Daddy!" Then, she ran upstairs to play.

"Who cares? If it's important, they'll call back." With a cookie in one hand and a slice of cold pepperoni pizza in the other, Baloo settled into his comfy chair. _Why does Becky bellyache so much? Alls she's gotta do is answer the phone a coupla times a day_.

A knock came at the door.

"Miss Molly! Where's my secretary?" Baloo hollered playfully. "I need ta see who's at the door."

From upstairs, Molly said, "Secretary Molly's busy doing stuff. 'Sides, Mommy never, ever lets me answer the door."

"I'll let ya."

"Nuh-uh. It might be a scary stranger."

The person knocked again.

Baloo really didn't want to get up. "Or it could be a nice person, Pigtails."

"That's not what Mommy says," Molly sang.

Grumbling, Baloo shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth and went to the door. Standing there was a clown. A real clown wearing a baggy, colorful patchwork outfit, red nose, and oversized red clown shoes. He clutched a bunch of helium-filled balloons. The clown shoved the balloons in Baloo's face and honked his horn. BEEP! BEEP! Attached to the balloons was a neon green card, which read: Karl's Kooky Klowns needs klaxons delivered tomorrow afternoon in Kookamunga for Klown Konvention.

Greatly perplexed, Baloo inquired, "Ya wanna know if this is doable?"

The clown's red make-up grin widened. The horn honked cheerfully. BEEP! BEEP!

"Lemmee check the schedule." Baloo pulled out Rebecca's scheduling book in which she wrote down the name of the customer, destination, date and time of delivery and other specifics such as insurance, payment plan, etc... "Um...no can do tomorrow afternoon."

The clown's smile drooped. The horn sounded like BWAAA.

A sad clown? Baloo couldn't let that happen. "What about tomorrow mornin' before noon?"

The clown perked up, grinning and beeping his horn happily.

"Oh, boy! A clown!" Molly cried. She, along with her favorite doll Lucy, clattered down the stairs.

Smiling, the clown pulled out a blue balloon, blew it up, and fashioned a dog for her. Then he made a second, miniature version for Lucy.

"Thanks, Mr. Clown! Say thank you, Lucy." In a high-pitched voice, Molly squeaked, "Thank you!"

With a parting beep, the clown hopped on his unicycle and glided away.

"Told ya it could be a nice person." Baloo closed the door.

"Of course he's nice, Daddy. He's a clown. They _have_ to be nice." Molly scampered back upstairs with her new playthings.

Baloo once again settled into his easy chair and closed his eyes. A few seconds later, he sat up with a start. "Oh, man! Why didn't I ask who, what, when, where, why? I don't know how many or when they're comin' here or anythin'." He ran outside to chase the clown down, but he was long gone. "Becky's gonna have a good laugh at my expense, an' she's gonna rub it in my face that I don't know anythin' about shippin'. The bad part is, she's right. Can't let that happen." With a flash of insight, he called the Karl's Kooky Klowns agency.

It was answered with a BEEP! BEEP!

Baloo stared at the phone in amazement for a second before venturing slowly, "Uh, yeah. This is Baloo at Higher for Hire, an' I was wonderin' about this klaxon shipment."

A polite, comprehending BEEP! BEEP!

"Does anyone there speak English?"

AOOOUUGAH! replied the clown; he was greatly offended.

"Pardon me, mister! I wanted some specifics. Can ya tell me what time the klaxons will be at Higher for Hire tomorrow?"

The clown beeped nine times.

"Nine o'clock, huh?" Baloo wrote it down. "An' how much are ya gonna pay us? My wife's real particular about that."

The clown beeped six times.

"Six hundred bucks?"

A confirming BEEP! BEEP!

Baloo wrote that down. "Any insurance?"

BWAAAA, moaned the clown sadly.

"No, huh? Okay. What I got is klaxons comin' at nine tomorrow, no insurance, rush delivery by noon to Kookamunga for six hundred buckaroos. Is that right?"

BEEP! BEEP!

"Thanks, mister." Baloo hung up, shaking his head. "Man, what a clown that guy was!" He returned to his easy chair.

**_Meanwhile..._**

Above the sparkling blue Pacific Ocean, the _Sea Duck _flew. A beautiful sunrise glowed in the east, turning the fluffy cumulus clouds into giant orange and pink tufts of cotton candy.

"Course correction eleven degrees north, Rebecca," Kit said, glancing up from the map to the bearess in the pilot's seat.

Rebecca turned the _Sea Duck_ a fraction to starboard, flicked her eyes over the gauges, and inquired for the umpteenth time, "How are we doing on time, navigator?"

"Thirty-three minutes to New Fedora. We have to deliver in an hour, which gives us twenty-seven minutes to spare."

"Fabulous! I just don't see why Baloo has such a hard time being on time, especially with a wonderful navigator like you to help him, Kit."

The boy blushed. "Gee, thanks, Miz...um, Rebecca." He felt compelled to defend Baloo. "But we usually do deliver on time."

Rebecca laughed. "I know. It's the stops afterward that make you late." She surveyed the clear blue sky for aircraft, then briefly smiled over at the thirteen-year-old. "Isn't this nice, Kit? Just you and me and the _Sea Duck_ and the sky."

"And Wildcat," added Kit.

The mechanic poked his head out of the cargo hold. "The Handy Dandy bits are hunky-dory, Ree-becca. They're all strapped in cozier than a slug in a bug rug."

"Er...thank you, Wildcat. Everything's okay up here. Let's radio Baloo, just to check up." Rebecca reached for the microphone, a malicious smirk on her face.

**_Meanwhile at Higher for Hire_**

Rebecca's perky voice crackled over the radio. "Higher for Hire, come in!"

Molly sprinted down the stairs to the radio with one of Rebecca's filmy pink scarves wound around her neck - her secretary outfit. "This is Higher for Hire."

"Molly, what are you doing answering the radio? Where is your father?"

"He's coming. He's taking a nap."

"A nap? I should have known." Rebecca sounded peeved.

"Yeah, Becky?" Baloo stifled a yawn.

"What are you doing taking a nap? You're supposed to be watching the office, not to mention our seven-year-old daughter!"

"I was watchin' her." To himself he added, _Through the insides of my eyelids._ "Whatcha want, Beckers?"

Smugly, she said, "I thought you'd like to know how well we're doing. This piloting business is a piece of cake."

"That's good." Baloo's stomach rumbled. _Wonder if we got any cake._

"We're doing fabulous, aren't we, guys?"

Wildcat and Kit voiced their agreement.

"How are you doing, Baloo?"

"We're doin' peachy. Just got done dealin' with some clown."

"Clown!" Rebecca scolded, "Baloo, that's not professional, to call customers clowns!"

Molly piped up, "But he was a clown, Mommy. He made me and Lucy balloon doggies."

"Well...a clown, huh?" Baloo and Molly could hear the smile in the bearess's voice. "Mind your Ps and Qs, buster, and stay awake!"

"I will, honey. Take good care of my baby."

Curtly, she snapped, "You take care of _my _baby. _Sea Duck_ out."

**_New Fedora_**

Rebecca smiled triumphantly upon completion of her textbook perfect landing at the New Fedora airport. "You stay with the _Sea Duck_, Wildcat, while Kit and I take care of the finer points of the delivery."

The petite brown bearess and the small brown cub strolled to Miner's Supply, a large warehouse situated two blocks from the airport. They stepped through the screen door into the shipping and receiving office.

"Ahem," Rebecca coughed politely.

The man behind the desk, a lazy-looking tan dog, pointed to the sign - on break until 10:00 - then at the clock hanging on the wall. It was 9:58 AM.

"But..." Rebecca began, frowning.

"It's no use; we have to wait," Kit whispered.

"Bright kid," the dog chuckled insolently with a slurp of coffee. At exactly ten o'clock, the clerk wiped his mouth with a napkin and removed the sign from his cluttered desk. "What can I do ya for, lady?"

"Delivering Handy Dandy drill bits from Cape Suzette," Rebecca said brightly.

"Paperwork." He snapped his fingers and held out his hand. His squinty eyes flitted over the papers. "Seems to be in order. Okay, you can unload."

"Where?" asked Rebecca.

"Stack 'em in the warehouse at back."

"All the way from the airport and around the building? Are you crazy?" the bearess cried.

Kit took a more tactful approach. "They're heavy. Do you have any dollies or carts we can borrow?"

"Nope. Sorry," the dog said, sounding anything but. He returned to his newspaper.

"Can't_ anybody_ help us?" Rebecca pleaded, blocking the article he was reading with her paws.

"Not with that attitude," he said insolently, pushing her hands away as if they were covered with infectious germs.

Rebecca stormed out of the office. Emphatically, she proclaimed, "We'll find some way, Kit."

With much tugging and pushing and puffing and panting, the Higher for Hire trio got the cumbersome crates from the _Sea Duck_ to the edge of the runway.

"We'll never make it _to_ the warehouse, let alone _inside_ the warehouse," Rebecca said gloomily, tears of frustration pricking her eyes as she plopped down on one of the crates. It had taken them fifteen minutes to move twenty crates five yards. It would take them hours to get to the warehouse two blocks away, making them late in getting back to Higher for Hire. The thought of Baloo's exulting smirk made it even more unbearable.

Kit commented thoughtfully, "Rebecca, I think this guy is jerking your chain, because you're a woman. Baloo usually unloads the crates from the plane, onto the dock or the ground or wherever, and the company takes care of it from there."

"Because I'm a _woman_! Doesn't he know this is the twentieth century? OOOO! Men! That no-good so-and-so!" Her hands balled into fists, she stomped back to the shipping and receiving office of Miner's Supply. Kit followed, curious to see what she and her temper would do.

"All done, Miss?" the clerk asked without taking his eyes from his newspaper.

Rebecca fluttered her eyelashes. In a silky-smooth voice, she cooed, "Yes, the crates are at the airport, and that's all the further we're moving them. Guess you'll have to carry them into the warehouse yourself, you big strong man, you." Taking the newspaper, she smashed it over the astonished canine's head where it hung like a black and white collar. "Oh, by the way, it's _Mrs_." She stormed out the door. "Let's go home, Kit."

When they were in the air and away from New Fedora, Rebecca radioed Higher for Hire to gloat over her success. "That's right, Baloo. Delivered right on time. How are things on your end?"

"Super, Beckers."

Looking disappointed - _isn't that bear supposed to be having a horrible day?_ - she continued, "Glad to hear it. See you in..."

Kit supplied, "At the present speed, tail wind, and heading, we should make it back in one hour and nineteen minutes."

"One hour and nineteen minutes. That's ten whole minutes ahead of schedule, darling," Rebecca said cheerfully. "_Sea Duck_ out."

**_Back at Higher for Hire_**

"Ten minutes ahead of schedule, darlin'," the big bear mocked in a falsetto tone, banging the microphone down on the desk. "Thinks she's so dang smart. Nothin' she can do that I can't do better! I'll show her!" He squeezed into the chair behind the desk and gazed with confusion at the stacks of papers. "Now, how do ya do this stuff?"

**_One Hour Later_**

Molly, dressed as DangerWoman and playing with her dolls Lucy and Millie on the floor beside the desk, was listening to her father's half of one in a string of interminable phone conversations.

"Yeah, I got that right here. Hold on a sec, pal. Invoice? Yeah, I'm talkin' in my voice. Oh, _that_ kind of invoice! I got it! Ya want me to tally up your bill for a shipment!" Baloo rifled through papers, then hissed to Molly, "Where's your mama keep her blank invoices?"

Molly opened the middle filing cabinet drawer and handed him one.

"How's 'bout a pen?"

With a mischievous smile, the little girl picked up a pen from a holder right in front of his nose.

"Thanks, sweetie." He patted Molly's head. "Shoot, mister. One o'clock on the tenth." He scribbled the information down on the handiest thing he could find - his hand. "Eighty crates of golf balls to 3 ½ Laddiebuck Drive, Gretna Green, Tartanland. With mileage, handlin' fees, an' tax, that'll come to," Baloo quickly punched a few buttons on the adding machine, "seven dollars an' fifty cents. That seems awful cheap." He squinted at the numbers. "No, I mean, seven hundred fifty dollars...Uh-huh...Charge it to Jerry Nickewicket ...Yep, got it...No, no, no, thank _you_ for choosin' Higher for Hire. Bye." The big bear hung up and, grinning at his daughter, leaned back in the chair and put his feet on the desk. "Easy as pie, Pigtails. There's nuthin' about this office stuff that I can't handle."

A squeal of brakes announced the arrival of the afternoon delivery.

"Must be the mangoes." Baloo lumbered outside with Molly close behind.

"This Higher for Hire?" the stocky canine truck driver wearing a brown jacket and cap inquired, holding out his clipboard and a pen.

"Yep." Baloo scrawled his illegible signature on the clipboard.

"Bananas. Should I leave 'em on the dock?"

Baloo's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Bananas? Are you bananas? Your s'posed ta have mangoes!"

"Nope. On the air waybill it says...well, I'll be dipped. You're absolutely right, mister. It says thirty crates of mangoes. I'll unload 'em anyway." The delivery man let down the tailgate of his truck and pulled out a dolly.

Baloo threw himself between the driver and the truck. "Hey! No, you can't do that! Where are my mangoes?"

"Hard telling. Could be in the warehouse, could be on the way to somewhere else. Heck, maybe they're still on the trees!" the truck driver chuckled.

"What am I gonna do?" Baloo said, panicked. "My customer is expectin' mangoes."

The truck driver looked almost sorry for Baloo's predicament. "Boy, you're new here, ain't ya? Try callin' the number on the waybill, buddy."

Baloo tore to the phone, Molly at his heels. After dialing the number, he muttered anxiously, "C'mon...c'mon, pick up!"

A seductive woman's voice answered. "Thank you for calling the Mango Wango Company's hotline. I'm Terri Shinsdale."

"Hi, I'm Baloo von Bruinwald at High..."

Terri Shinsdale plunged ahead mechanically, "To order a fruit basket, dial one. To order fruit by the lug, dial two. To get information concerning your order, dial three."

"Augghhh!" the pilot screamed.

"I'm sorry, sir. That's an unauthorized line," the smooth voice drawled. "To speak with our shipping coordinator, dial four."

Baloo dialed 'four' on the rotary dial and said, "Four!"

"Thank you. You will be connected shortly." In a shrill, New York accent, she yelled, "Yo, Henry, call for ya!"

Baloo drummed his fingers impatiently on the desk. While he waited, Terri hummed 'Yes, We Have No Bananas' into the phone.

_Bad choice of song, lady_, Baloo thought irately.

"Hi, this is Henry," came a young-sounding tenor voice.

"Yeah, Henry, this is Baloo at Higher for Hire. Ya got our shipment screwed up. We got bananas instead of mangoes."

"Uh-huh. Yo-kay." Henry sounded completely unconcerned. "I feel your pain. Let me pull up the paperwork on that." He shouted into the phone, "Hey, Mike, where's the Higher for Hire file?"

Baloo cringed in pain; he wriggled a finger in his ringing ear. "Man, Molly, these guys are wacky."

"They're bananas," the little girl giggled.

Laughing, the pilot gently tickled one of her ears. "Good one, Button-nose."

Henry said, "Yeah, I got it right here, Blue."

"That's _Baloo_. What's it say?" The big bear glanced at the clock. Rebecca would be back at any minute.

"It says you have mangoes."

"But we don't have mangoes! We have bananas!" shouted Baloo at the top of his lungs. "Becky's gonna kill me," he muttered to himself. "She's gonna kill me! Hospital, here I come!"

"Are you sure, Mac?"

"Yes! Doncha think I know what bananas look like?" Baloo's face was red with rage. "Where's my mangoes?" he roared, repressing the urge to bang the receiver on the desk repeatedly.

"Relax, no need to get upset, man," Henry said coolly. "We'll get you your mangoes."

"When? When?"

"Eight o'clock tomorrow morning."

"No! I gotta have 'em NOW!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but the only way you can have them now is if you came and picked them up yourself."

"I'm comin'! I'm comin!"

"Make sure you bring the alleged bananas and all the paperwork with you."

"We will," Baloo growled, slamming down the phone. "We're takin' a trip across town, Molly."

He stuffed the car with crates of bananas - trunk, back seat, front passenger seat, tied to the top of the car. The bumper nearly scraped the ground from all the weight. Baloo squeezed into the driver's seat and Molly scrambled on his lap.

"Can I steer, Daddy?"

"Not this time, Dumplin'. We gotta go real fast. What's the address on that crate beside you?"

"Can't read it. It's upside down."

Baloo turned the giggling girl on her head.

"One-oh-six-three-five Santa Monika Blvd. Cape Suzette."

"Santa Monika Blvd? Man, that's clear across town. We'll do eighty."

After racing through Cape Suzette, praying that he wouldn't get caught by a cop or lose any bananas, Baloo arrived at the Mango Wango warehouse.

"Lookit, Daddy!" Molly pointed up. On top of the warehouse was a larger-than-life statue of the founder, Mr. Wango. The huge ape's mechanical arms 'juggled' plaster mangoes, papayas, oranges, lemons, limes, and bananas.

Baloo rushed into a door and found himself in the main warehouse, and almost got mowed over by a forklift. "Aah!" he screamed, diving out the door, doing a belly flop on the ground.

Molly leaned over her moaning father. "Are you okay, Daddy? That looked like it hurted. The office is that door." She gestured to a neon red sign over the door that said 'office'.

"Just checkin' to see if the produce is fresh." He sniffed a nearby crate of oranges. "Yep, it's fresh." Taking hold of Molly's hand, he walked nonchalantly, whistling, into the office.

There was porcine Terri Shinsdale, dressed in a bright orange dress, filing her long, red nails behind the desk. "Hello," she said in a vixenish-smooth voice, a sharp contrast to her chubby exterior. "May I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm from Higher for Hire. I'm here to trade bananas for mangoes."

"Oh, you," she cooed; her plucked eyebrows raised with amusement. However, her simpering smile vanished after she saw his wedding band and Molly peering over the desk at her. She yelled through the open door behind her, "Henry, the banana man's here for the mangoes!"

"Does he have the bananas?" Henry shouted back.

Baloo nodded.

"He says he does!"

"Tell him to drive around to the side door!"

"Thank you, ma'am." Baloo went to doff his hat, discovered that he had no hat, and waved sheepishly instead.

The car bumped over the gravel road around the building to two double wide doors big enough to admit a Mack truck. Baloo backed up to the door. Henry, a young wiry goat in green overalls, joined them with a cart. He counted the crates of bananas as Baloo unloaded them.

"Twenty-nine. Thirty. They're all here. Paperwork, please."

Molly proudly produced folded-up papers from her overalls pocket.

The big bear fidgeted from one foot to the other while Henry leisurely scanned the paperwork. "Seems in order."

A fox appeared with a skid loader laden with crates with pictures of mangoes on the sides. Baloo pried the lid off of one. "Yep, mangoes."

The mangoes were loaded in the car and on the car. Wherever you name it, there were mangoes stashed in the car.

"We're gonna make it, Molly! We're gonna make it!" Baloo said when they were a few blocks away from Higher for Hire.

As soon as he said that, they hit a pothole. A crate of mangoes tied to the bumper escaped from the rope; the crate's lid slipped off. Oblong olive fruit plopped to the ground.

Baloo glanced at the speedometer when he heard a police siren wail. "Goin' thirty-three in a thirty-five zone. That's legit."

Molly, sitting on her father's lap, stuck her head out of the driver's side window. The officer was motioning to them.

"You with the mangoes, pull over!" the policeman shouted.

Baloo gulped. Rebecca was going to have a field day with this. If he was late with the shipment _and_ got a ticket, he hated to think what the punishment would be. "Oh..." he moaned, steering the car to the curb and turning off the ignition.

The officer, a short feline who had to stand on tiptoe to see into the window, sternly ordered Baloo to get out of the car.

"What seems to be the problem, Officer?" the big bear asked with a nervous chuckle.

"Violation for exceeding the vehicle weight limit and littering."

"Littering?" Molly echoed, perplexed.

The officer pointed to the trail of smashed and squished mangoes on the road. He ripped a ticket from his notepad and handed it to Baloo.

Baloo's face fell when he saw how much he owed. "Geez Louise, Becky's gonna turn my hide into a rug fer gettin' a ticket."

"That one's not mushy. I'll get it, Daddy," and the little girl darted out in front of an oncoming truck.

"Molly! NO!" Baloo shouted, his heart pounding.

When the truck had sped by and the dust had cleared, Molly was waving at him from the opposite curb. Baloo ran over to her, both relieved and furious. He scooped her and the mango up. After hugging and kissing her on the cheek repeatedly, he scolded, "Doggone it, Molly, don't you ever, _ever_, EVER, run out in the road! You coulda been..." He couldn't finish the thought; it was too horrible to imagine. He hugged his little daughter closer.

"I'm sorry, Daddy, but I got the mango. See. It'll help save your hide, won't it?"

Still shaking with fright, Baloo murmured, "Yeah, Button-nose, it'll help. It's your hide I was worried about." He kissed her again, looked both ways, and crossed the street to the car. "We gotta beat your mama home."

Moments before the _Sea Duck_ coasted in for a landing in the Cape Suzette harbor, Baloo had the mangoes piled at the end of the dock. To appear as if he had everything under control, he pretended to fish. Molly sat beside him, holding a net.

An exhilarated Rebecca emerged from the plane. "What did I tell you, Baloo? Ten whole minutes ahead of schedule!" she bragged with a big grin.

"Take your mangoes an'..." Baloo growled.

"Papa Bear!" Kit warned, tugging on his father's arm with a shake of his head.

"Go fly," Baloo finished, glaring at his smug wife. He slapped the packet of paperwork containing the invoice from the Mango Wango Company, the packing slip, and the air waybill in her paws and stomped up the dock.

"On the shipping sheet it says thirty crates. Why are there only twenty-nine, Baloo?" Rebecca complained.

Baloo spun around, sharing a twisted little smile with Molly. Between clenched teeth, he hissed, "Just be glad they're mangoes, Becky!"

"What's that supposed to meant? Of course they're mangoes! What else would they be? And who's going to help me load them into the plane?"

The big bear was going to yell 'do it yourself!', but he caught the reproachful looks of his children and felt ashamed. He knew the cubs hated when they argued. "I'll help ya," he sighed.

While Baloo grunted and groaned under the weight of the crates - the very same ones he had unloaded from the car seconds before - Rebecca chattered happily. "The delivery to New Fedora was so simple! I don't know why you think it's tiring, Baloo. Sit and steer; the plane does the rest."

He shot a dirty look at her, rubbed his aching back, and picked up another heavy crate.

"I've decided it's unnecessary to take Wildcat along on the next trip."

Baloo nearly dropped the crate on his foot in astonishment. "But, Beckers, if somethin' went wrong, I'd feel better if..."

"I can handle it," she said confidently.

"Air pirates..."

"Why would pirates want mangoes?" Rebecca snapped.

"Dunno, honey, but Karnage can be real mean if ya cross him." Baloo reeled off every possible catastrophe that he could think of, but Rebecca waved him aside.

Adamantly, she stated, "Kit and I are going to stop at Louie's to refuel, and then we're off to Jai Frais. I trust you've had a profitable day?"

He frowned at the jeering tone in her voice. "Sure have. Even got ya a new customer. Deliverin' golf balls in Tartanland for..." squinting, he tried to read the smudged writing on his hand; "Jerry Nickercracker? Nickerbocker? Nickelwickel? Nickelsanddimes? Is that an 'M' or an 'N', Kit-boy?"

"It looks like a squiggly worm," offered Wildcat. "I didn't know worms played golf."

Chortling, Rebecca nimbly climbed into the cockpit. "I'm sure you'll figure it out by the time we get back, Baloo."

"Good luck, Papa Bear!" Kit shouted over the roar of the engines as he got into the plane.

"You're going to need it!" Rebecca laughed.

**_On the Road to Jai Frais_**

Twirling his sextant absently in his hands, Kit stared at the bearess who had been his mother for the past two weeks. His mother! Kit loved that phrase. He never thought he'd ever see the day when he would actually have parents, let alone terrific parents like Baloo and Rebecca. He'd been an orphan as far back as he could remember - living in orphanages until he was nine, knocking about from town to town as a street urchin for two years, that horrible eleven months with the air pirates. What bizarre twist of fate brought him here? Here he was with _his mother_, and he still couldn't quite believe it to be real.

In all of his thirteen years, Kit had never felt so loved, so wanted, so secure before. Since the wedding, both parents, but especially Rebecca, had lavishly showered him with hugs and kisses, fond smiles, and kind words. Kit's love-starved heart soaked it all up and craved more. Right now, he was perfectly satisfied to sit and gaze at her pretty face. For once, flying and navigating took a backseat. He barely registered where they were or what Rebecca was saying.

"I know Baloo says it's because Louie likes me, but does that big ape have to kiss my hand every time we meet? I mean, courtesy and friendliness is one thing, but wanton slobbering is an entirely different...Kit, what is it?"

"What?" Hearing his name, the cub snapped out of his daydream.

"You had a funny smile on your face." She checked the _Sea Duck's _gauges. "Am I piloting all right?"

Kit blushed, focusing on the map in his lap. He'd been wondering what it would be like to call her 'Mom'. He wanted to, but it just didn't seem right somehow. It was hard enough not to call her 'Miz Cunningham'. "You're doing fine, Rebecca."

"Are you feeling okay?" she inquired concernedly.

"I'm fine."

Rebecca patted his hand. "As long as you're positive, honey. But if we need to go home, we can."

Tears sprang to Kit's eyes. She'd be willing to forgo the delivery because of him? Her, to whom every delivery was of immense importance? Kit had known very few adults who would throw away money for his sake. The boy shook his head, blinking back tears.

"If you're sure, Kit," Rebecca said, attempting to read his expression.

He kept his eyes averted from her, looking out the window. "I'm sure," he whispered, willing the tears to subside. He silently cursed himself; recently, tears came too easily. Kit would never live it down if Ernie and his other Jungle Ace friends found out that he was a sissy crybaby.

"Kit, you can tell me anything. I'm here anytime you need to talk; you know that. It all happened so fast - the engagement and the wedding. Molly and I moving into Higher for Hire. Your adoption."

"Made my head spin," Kit admitted.

"Mine, too, Kit. I know this must be hard on you, to have to share Baloo when you had him to yourself for so long; not to mention adjusting to living with two females."

Kit beamed at her mischievously. "You _do_ hog the bathroom sometimes."

Rebecca returned the smile. "Is there anything else besides the bathroom that's bothering you?"

"Well..." Kit fidgeted in his seat.

"Well, what?"

"I don't want to sound ungrateful or whiny or anything."

"Sweetie, if something is bothering you, you should say something. I - Baloo and I both - only want you to be happy."

"I'd...I'd like more alone time, I guess," he murmured. Noticing her slightly confused, hurt reaction, he added quickly, "Nothing personal, Rebecca!"

The bearess nodded thoughtfully. "None taken. I think we can manage to give you more space. I'll have a little chat with Molly about it. She's just so excited to have someone to play with, she overdoes it."

"I don't want to get her in trouble," Kit said sheepishly.

"She's not in trouble. Is there anything else?" Rebecca gently prodded.

"No, Rebecca," he stated truthfully.

"Then what was with the funny smile?"

Kit chuckled inwardly. He knew she would weasel it out of him by hook or by crook, so he might as well confess. "I was just thinking how wonderful it is to have my own mother."

Reaching over to caress the boy's cheek tenderly, Rebecca said, "It's wonderful to have you for a son, Kit."

Embarrassed, he checked his compass and map.

"Another course correction, navigator?"

"Nah, we're right where we should be," Kit said quietly, meeting her eyes. A shy grin slowly grew across his face.

Rebecca gave him an understanding smile.

Two hours later, the _Sea Duck_ soared over rippling green fields dotted with farms located in Usland's grain belt. Squares of green as far as the eye could see. However, there was trouble in the midst of even this peaceful setting. Directly in front of them, smack dab in their flight path, loomed a thunderstorm.

Rebecca nervously tapped her fingers on the control yoke. She'd never flown through a thunderstorm before, and from the towering, black clouds, sharp flashes of lightning, and torrential downpour - noticeable even from a distance - this one appeared severe. Trying to sound casual, yet betrayed by the fear in her eyes, she asked, "What would your Papa Bear do, navigator?"

Kit had been with Baloo through countless storms. He always marveled at his father's piloting abilities and his instincts in flying through the worst storms. But Baloo was a seasoned pilot at the top of Louie's Air Race Wall of Fame, whereas Rebecca was a novice. The boy suggested the safe thing. "Go around. Definitely go around."

"Plot us a course, Kit."

They were now over Wheatina. Depending upon how large the system was, how fast it was moving, and in what direction, it could possibly take them hours out of their flight path. Kit knew Rebecca wouldn't like it. In fact, she would hate it. But, as he told himself, getting them and the _Sea Duck_ there in one piece was more important than being punctual. "Set course oh-oh-three degrees north and increase the throttle slightly. We'll try to outrun it."

Rebecca banked the _Sea Duck_ to the left. "Kit, how much time will we lose? Will we be able to deliver on time?"

It was the question Kit had dreaded. He frowned at the map and his watch. "To tell you the truth, Rebecca..."seeing her hopeful, anxious expression, he fibbed; "it'll be close." There was no need to get her upset. And who knew? There still was a minuscule, microscopic chance that they could make it on time - if a miracle occurred.

The bearess smiled at the thirteen-year-old. She was so proud that this intelligent, thoughtful, handsome, full-of-moxie boy was her son. Brightly, Rebecca said, "You never told me what color you wanted your room painted, sweetie."

Kit glanced up guiltily. He had been mentally calculating. There was no getting around it; no matter what path they took, they were going to be late. He faced a dilemma: keep the news to himself or tell her. He decided to stall while he did more figuring. "I don't know. I kinda like my room the way it is."

"That's fine; you don't have to change it. You're still going to help with Molly's room, aren't you?"

"Sure, Rebecca."

"She wants hers to be a pale lavender."

Absentmindedly, he murmured, "Uh-huh," scribbling down numbers as fast as he could.

"Like the color of violets in spring."

"Uh-huh."

Rebecca glanced sharply over at her son and at his calculations. It was obvious he wasn't listening to a word she was saying. "And Molly wants to hang her bed from the ceiling."

"Sure. No problem." He stared at the map. There had to be a way to get to Jai Frais on time. He just didn't see it yet. _Think, Cloudkicker! Think!_

"Kit, two lab mice have just taken over the planet."

"That's nice."

"Kit Cloudkicker von Bruinwald, as the pilot and your mother, I demand to know what's going on!" she shouted, causing Kit to jump in his seat.

"Well...Miz...Rebecca, because of the detour we took, we're...we're going to be a little um...late." He cringed, waiting for her temper to explode.

"How late?" she asked calmly.

Kit gulped. "About thirty minutes."

"We'll just go faster." Rebecca opened the throttles to full tilt. The plane began to vibrate. Number one engine spit smoke.

"Miz Cunningham!" He yanked the throttle down. "Run the engines that fast for very long, they'll overheat, and we'll burn up!"

"But, Kit, we'll be late!" she cried.

Kit shook his head resolutely, crossing his arms across his chest. "Better safe than dead."

"Is there any way to make it on time?"

"I'm working on it," he replied quickly, picking up his pencil. _Great, Cloudkicker, your dumb idea just keeps getting better and better. I should have known Rebecca would run into trouble without Baloo or even Wildcat to help. Wonder how Papa Bear is getting along?_

**_Higher for Hire_**

Baloo was on the telephone. He hated telephones. He didn't know how much he hated them until that dreadful day. The phone had never ceased its annoying, incessant ringing. Everyone who called wanted something, and they wanted it now. In many cases, yesterday would have been preferable. Added to this was Baloo's ignorance of Rebecca's filing system. He had to dig through mounds of papers to find anything. Most of the time, he didn't find it and had to make something up to appease the client.

"Yeah, I heard ya loud and clear the first three times. Ya don't hafta shout! Darn it, Jim, I'm a pilot, not a businessman! Call back tomorrow, an' Becky'll straighten ya out." He slammed down the receiver and cracked his neck. He was getting a crick in his neck from cradling the receiver between his ear and shoulder. "I'm tellin' ya, Molly, if I gotta talk to one more nitwit...Molly? Where are ya, sweetie?"

"Making lunch, Daddy," she called from the kitchen. "Hope you like your macaroni and cheese super-duper cheesy. I used all the cheese we had."

Baloo stepped into the kitchen, blinked a couple of times at the appalling mess, and groaned, "Oh, man, Molly!"

Elbow macaroni was scattered across both the table and floor. There was a big puddle of milk in front of the open refrigerator. Flour poured from a sack on the counter. All of the pots and pans were pulled out of the cupboard. And if the horrible burnt stench wasn't enough, a blue haze hung over the room.

Molly stood beside the stove on a chair, enveloped in a towel from the waist down. With a wooden spoon, she gingerly tasted a bite of what looked like a big pot of scorched yellow glop. Cheese dribbled down her chin onto the chair and the floor. "I don't get it. The macaroni stays crunchy no matter how long I cook it."

"That's 'cause ya gotta boil the macaroni in water before addin' cheese, Button-nose." Baloo shuffled through the macaroni to the window, which he flung open. Moving to the stove, he turned off the burner and looked in the pot. He grimaced. Even _he_ wouldn't eat that! Then he scooped up his small daughter and carried her to the sink where he proceeded to wipe her face with a washcloth. Patiently, he admonished, "You know your not s'posed ta touch the stove. How come ya didn't wait for me ta help ya?"

"I did. I waited for a looooooong time, but you were busy on the phone. I got really, really hungry. Mfph...don't rub so hard, Daddy!"

Baloo looked at the clock - 2:30. "I'm sorry, Muffin. Time slipped away from me."

"_Mommy_ never forgets to make me lunch," Molly said reproachfully, scowling at him. "She _always_ fixes me something yummy even when she's real busy."

"First those clients, now my daughter. I need a vacation from this guilt trip," Baloo muttered as he got out sandwich materials.

**_The Sea Duck_**

The sun was sinking below the dark, gloomy cloud bank, allowing a brief glimpse of oranges and reds before it retired for the night when Rebecca and Kit approached Jai Frais, a sprawling Canadianian city situated on the shores of Lake Superiority. Rebecca's nerves were raw and her temper was at the boiling point from steering the plane against a strong headwind that threatened to blow them off course. Because of the winds and the detour they were forced to make due to the thunderstorm, they were over two hours late.

Kit cast a discreet glance over at his tight-lipped mother, who had the control yoke in a stranglehold. She hadn't uttered three words since the run-in with the thunderstorm in Wheatina. It had been two of the longest hours of his life. Out the window, he could see the lights of the airport runways as well as the rotating beacon. Instead of bothering her, he himself gave the clearance code to air traffic control/border patrol.

"You were due two hours ago, eh?" the controller said in a Canadianian accent.

"We ran into a storm," Kit explained.

"You can't land now, _Sea Duck_. Circle until we tell you, eh?"

Rebecca snatched the mike from Kit. All of her pent-up rage came tumbling out as she snarled, "Let me tell _you_ something, mister! We are tired and hungry and we've come a very long way. We're going to land. NOW! Do you get that?"

"It's one of those crazy female pilots, Bill. Oops, was the mike on?"

"Oooooo!" Rebecca, seething with rage, scanned the ground for a place to land. She spotted an empty field ringed with stadium lights. "Let's land there. It's right next to the airport."

"Um...that may not be the best idea," Kit hedged.

Ignoring Kit's objections, Rebecca deployed the landing gear. With a determined, angry glint in her eyes, she sharply pushed the control yoke forward, nearly sideswiping a silver commuter plane.

"Why don't you watch where I'm going!" Rebecca angrily shook her fist at the pilot of the other aircraft. "Honestly, Kit, some people just don't know how to fly," she said as the seaplane's landing gear plowed a path through the field before screeching to an abrupt stop; Kit was thrown forward in his seat.

Both planes landed: the silver plane on the runway, the _Sea Duck_ in the field next to the airstrip. A small truck waiting beside the small airport's hanger bounced across the runway to the _Sea Duck_.

Kit and Rebecca assisted the truck driver - a lanky brown bear in a blue jacket and matching blue cap - in loading the crates into his truck. When the last one was loaded and counted, the truck driver compared the shipping orders with the number of crates. "Hey! What happened? There's only twenty-nine here."

A tired Rebecca sighed in frustration. "It's a long, _long_ story."

"About two hours long, I bet." Suspiciously, the truck driver queried, "You're not trying to stiff us, eh?"

"Of course not!" the enraged bearess shot back. "Higher for Hire will gladly pay for any damages. Send us the bill."

"Rebecca, we've got company!" Kit pointed to a soccer team - the Mighty Maple Leafs - armed with sacks of soccer balls. They were approaching them. The soccer players plunked down their sacks, rolled out their soccer balls, and...

A volley of balls came at them. "Told ya not to land here! This must be their playing field!" Kit sprinted to the plane with Rebecca right behind him.

Soccer balls thudded against the _Sea Duck's_ exterior. The two bears scrambled into the _Sea Duck_, and Rebecca flipped switches as fast as she could to start the plane..

When they were in the air, Rebecca began to giggle uncontrollably from sheer nervous exhaustion. "When we get home, we'll have to burst in, shouting, 'Soccer balls! Millions of them!'. I can't wait to see the look on Baloo's face. Give him a taste of his own medicine."

Kit chuckled, relieved that she was speaking again. The stony silence of the very long trip from Wheatina to Jai Frais had been extremely uncomfortable. "It's so outrageous, not even Baloo would have thought of that one."

**_Higher for Hire_**

The stars shone down on the city of Cape Suzette as well as the big grey bear pacing the dock in front of Higher for Hire. Baloo, nervously wringing his hands, kept his eyes focused on the gap between the cliffs for any sign of a yellow and orange Conwing L-16. "Where are they? Shoulda been home hours ago. Where _are_ they?" he muttered repeatedly. "Should I go lookin' for 'em? Where would I start lookin'? What if they got captured by pirates? Or had engine trouble? Engine number two was actin' kinda funny yesterday, goin' kerchunk, kerchunk. Hope Wildcat looked at it. Or what if they...? Wish Becky'd taken Wildcat. Why's that gal hafta be so doggoned stubborn all the time? Heck, if anythin' happened to 'em I'll..."

At the familiar drone of the _Sea Duck's_ engines and the sight of the seaplane soaring through the cliffs, Baloo expelled an immense sigh of relief. "Man, she's gonna get it now! How dare she keep me waitin' an' stewin'!"

Rebecca stumbled from the cockpit and pushed right past her indignant husband.

Baloo followed her up the dock and into Higher for Hire, pestering her with questions. "Where have you been, Becky? You were s'posed ta be home almost four hours ago! Why didn't ya radio or call or somethin'? Do you know how worried I've been?"

Kit trailed behind his parents, amused wonderment dancing in his eyes.

"Not now, Baloo. Can't you see I'm tired?" She grabbed an Orange Fizzie from the refrigerator, popped the cap off, and glanced around the kitchen, wrinkling up her nose in distaste. "What's that smell?"

"I don't smell anythin'." Baloo surreptitiously kicked some macaroni that he had missed during clean-up under the refrigerator. He quickly changed the subject. "Ya coulda radioed, ya know. Were you at Louie's?"

Rebecca plopped down on the couch. "No, we were _definitely_ _not_ at Louie's. We ran into a storm, then more bad weather, and soccer balls." Rebecca giggled at the memory. "Right, Kit? Soccer balls?"

"Soccer balls? If you think fer one prop-spinnin' second that I'm buyin' that mumbo-jumbo..." Baloo stopped mid-rant. An astonished look crossed his face. "What am I sayin'?"

Kit was on the floor, rocking with laughter. "You sound just like each other!"

Baloo grinned. "Soccer balls? That's a good one, Beckers. Might hafta borrow it sometime."

Taking a big gulp of soda, Rebecca shook her head wearily. "It's not an excuse, Baloo. It really happened."

The big bear settled on the couch beside his wife, draping an arm about her shoulders. "This I gotta hear."

Rebecca and Kit told their side of the story. Then Baloo shared his day.

"I'm tellin' ya, Becky, if I never hear that blasted phone ring, it'll be too soon. How do ya keep it all straight? All them customers, I mean?"

The bearess smiled, placing the pilot's cap back on Baloo's head. "How do you keep from falling asleep on long cargo runs? You're right. Flying _is_ hard work."

Husband and wife locked eyes for a long time, not saying a anything. Kit waited, staring at his feet in silent expectation. Periodically, he stole glances up at his parents.

"I'll...I'll try to be more patient and not yell so much," Rebecca said contritely, putting her small hands in Baloo's larger ones.

Baloo squeezed her paws. "An' I'll try to be on time more an' cut ya some slack when ya get pushy an' crabby."

"Pushy and crabby?" The bearess yanked her hands away. "You're lazy and sloppy, not to mention...!"

Kit whistled shrilly.

Their mouths still open, Baloo and Rebecca halted mid-argument.

"Time out! Haven't you two learned _anything_ today?" the boy asked reprovingly.

Turning their backs to each other, the adults shook their heads petulantly.

"Don't you _appreciate_ each other more now that you've switched jobs," Kit said pointedly. _Gee whiz! For being adults, they sure can act like stubborn little kids sometimes!_

"I s'pose," Baloo muttered, turning around.

Rebecca's expression softened as she met her husband's eyes. She held out a hand. "Truce, darling?"

Baloo took her paw, a tender smile on his face. He pulled his wife into his arms for a hug. "Truce, Beckers," he whispered in her ear. "Love ya."

"I love you, too, Baloo." Chin resting on her husband's shoulder, she said, "Thank you for the valuable lesson, Kit."

Baloo ruffled Kit's hair affectionately. "Yeah, it was a good idea, kiddo. A little painful and crazy, but a good idea."

Then, the phone rang for the millionth, trillionth time that day.

Baloo groaned. "Not again! I'm gonna rip that dang thing from the wall!"

With the pink scarf streaming out behind her, Molly skipped downstairs and answered it. "Higher for Hire. This is the secretary, Miss Molly, speaking."

"Baloo..." Rebecca shot daggers at her husband. "Has she been answering the phone all day?"

The big bear shrugged innocently. "Not _all_ day. She's just playin' a game, honey."

"Mommy, it's the Mango Wango people, and they don't sound very happy," Molly sang. She held out the receiver.

The exhausted expression returned to Rebecca's face. "I forgot all about that."

Baloo went over to the phone. He cracked his knuckles. "I'll take care of this one." Politely, yet emphatically, he said, "Sorry, we're closed," and he clicked down the receiver. "Deal with 'em tomorrow, Becky. They're all bananas over there. This bear needs ta get out of the office. We're eatin' out tonight."

"Yay!" Molly shouted. "I'm real hungry, Mommy, 'cause all I had for lunch was a bologna sandwich and crunchy maca..."

Baloo quickly placed a paw over his daughter's mouth.

Rebecca's eyes narrowed. "What's the big secret?"

"You really don't wanna know, Beckers," he chuckled wanly.

"For once, Baloo," Rebecca said, smiling tiredly, "you're right. I _don't _want to know. Let's go eat." She took Molly by the hand and started for the car. "Come on, guys."

"Coming, Mom," Kit said.

Rebecca stopped in her tracks. "What did you say, Kit?"

Kit thought for a second before it dawned on him. He had accidentally called Rebecca 'Mom'. He repeated softly, "I said, 'Coming, _Mom_'. Is...is that okay? To call you 'Mom'?"

Her eyes shining with joyful tears, Rebecca shared a smile with Baloo before answering. "It's much more than okay. It's fabulous, sweetie!"

Grinning from ear to ear, Baloo ruffled Kit's hair. "Yeah, fan-dang-tastic, Li'l Britches."

"Ya know what I want for supper? Macaroni and cheese," Molly proclaimed loudly as she skipped to the car.

Locking the door, Baloo groaned, "Anythin' but that, Button-nose." It had taken an extremely long time to clean up that nightmarish mess and Baloo despised cleaning. He never wanted to do Rebecca's job ever again. "Anythin' but that!"

The End


End file.
